2023-02-05: Aftermath - Another Ghost of Zeon
- Cutscene: Aftermath - Another Ghost of Zeon
- Cast: Eight York, Lavnadim Orlodhari
- Where: The Ra Mari II, Captain's Quarters
- Date: 0097 02 05 (Posted 2023/02/12)
- Summary: Having finished the meeting with the Sleeves' leader, Eight York has made her way back to her quarters for overdue rest. She has a chance to talk out the events of the evening a little bit with Lavhi. Takes place after 2023-02-05: Black Unicorn and then 2023-02-05: Negotiation.
Eight sits back, letting herself sink into the soft red couch in her living area. She has a glass of water in her hand. It's shiny, like her crimson-painted nails, like the short violet nightdress she's wearing in the low light of her quarters. She tips it up to her lips and drinks.
"Ahh…"
It helps, anyway; Eight leans forward to set the glass on the faux-wood table. Fatigue makes her limbs heavy, but nervous energy keeps her going anyway. Her crossed legs betray the motion of her foot, shaking lightly. At this hour, some of her medications' effects wane; little signs like this are most of the evidence. But it isn't all bad. She's sure she can 'taste' the water more…
Her quarters are silent, dimly lit; suitable to her need for quiet at the moment. She can still remember the tension of the meeting room, the rage simmering below and sometimes above the surface in it, the coldness of Full Frontal and the hot anger of his companion Angelo. She had to keep things as calm as she could, but it took a lot to do. And now, they're elsewhere on her ship.
…She does her best not to think too hard about that part, letting her thoughts drift from it into silence for a long few moments. Eight closes her red eyes, and lets the quiet carry her into its embrace.
But then there's a knock at the door. "Eight?" comes Lavhi's voice, and he is here as she asked him to be. He gave her some time to collect herself, citing that he had some checks to finish with his engineers as regards the hangar… but the truth is that he knew she needed a few minutes of her own, and she appreciated that. She appreciates that still.
"I'm here," Eight answers, opening her eyes and sitting up to lean on the couch arm and look towards the door. "Come on in."
The door slides open. Lavnadim Orlodhari is there, the broad Zentradi dressed still in mustard and brown as he was earlier; he regards her stoically, and she doesn't have to be able to read his mind–she can't, really–to recognize the way he checks her condition, notices the slight shakes. He nods in greeting a moment later and steps inside, pressing the button to close the door behind him again.
"Hello." Lavhi steps around the couch, to its back where he settles behind Eight, instead of moving to sit with her. "How are you feeling, Eight?"
"Tense," she admits, leaning back to look upward at him. Even upside down she likes looking at him; a little smile crosses her face. "But better for the quiet. And for you."
"Good!" Lavhi leans down then, kisses Eight's forehead, and then brings his hands down to her shoulders. With a little motion of his large thumbs, he moves the thin straps of her nightdress aside. "Lean forward," he suggests. Then he lowers his big hands down to her shoulders.
"Mm…" Eight does as she's asked, and when he starts to rub her shoulders she sighs. "That's nice." While his hands are thicker than hers, he can work them deftly; strong fingertips push through the tension in her muscles, massage her shoulders.
"You said that you were tense." His fingers soothe her, pushing deep into her skin. For a minute or so, she just lets him work. There's nothing she needs to say so urgently as to interrupt him, until then. But, eventually…
"...I'm doing the right thing," Eight says at length, "But it's not easy. They all hate him. …So do I, frankly. And I don't trust him at all. But if we can't demonstrate our goodwill…"
"Then others will not trust you. It is not fair, but your logic is sound, Eight."
"...Thanks, Lavhi. That's about the shape of it, huh…?" She closes her eyes, lets herself feel him start to go lower than her shoulders, down to the knots beneath. "I know it probably won't end well. But I have to take the risk. I just wonder how the others will feel about it…"
"They will support you," Lavhi asserts. "They will understand your position, like Anita did. Did you not see the way she regarded you during the meeting? She trusts you greatly. As do the others of your crew, even beyond your friends from your old home."
"You're right. They always do. And if they think I'm wrong, they'll tell me why. I hope Yurika and Lacus can live with this choice, though. I didn't have time to stop and consult them; saying 'no' wasn't really an option."
"Captain Misumaru will have some useful logic to contribute, I think, and then say something both heartening and slightly strange. Miss Clyne will see your logic, I think. …Of course, I could be wrong; I do not know her as well. But I am attempting to reassure you, yes?"
"I know," Eight says, "And I appreciate it. Just getting to talk it out is taking some of it off my shoulders." She smiles, and reaches up to place a hand on his. …Her fingers are unsteady.
"And yet," Lavhi says, concerned, "Your hand is shaking. Are you sure that you are all right…?"
"I'll be fine," Eight says. "It's just the nerves. Once I take my medicine again, I'll be okay."
"...Very well," he says, relenting. "But do not neglect your health. You are strong, yes, but not invincible."
"...All right. I won't," Eight answers. "...But hey…" She squeezes his hand, "Come around and see me."
Eight is still tired, but not quite ready to sleep yet. She has more to say…